


Cool Blue

by orphan_account



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Bisexual Jack, Casual Sex, Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic, M/M, Past friends with benefits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-29 21:37:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12093948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “You want to know what it’s like to be with a woman?”“I just wanted to know what you liked about it.  With um…well Camilla, right?  You and Camilla dated the longest.”Jack snorted.  “I was with her a while, yeah.  I don’t know I’d call it dating, bud.  We had something else.”“Friends with benefits?” Bittle asked, and Jack jolted because yeah, that had been it, but it also felt like more, in a way.





	Cool Blue

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this ages ago, and never posted but I figured I might as well. Special thank you to heyfightme for indulging me in my thoughts and ramblings about Jack/Camilla fwb relationship. <3

Blue - the colour fools you  
Cool blue  
I'll never stay this way for ever  
Blue again  
-Eurythmics

*** 

Jack was nearly asleep when he heard a soft hum against his chest, felt Bittle’s mouth there, pressing soft, gently sucking kisses along the edge of his pectoral.

“Jack,” Bittle said, which must have been the second or third time he’d spoken, since it was a little more insistent this time.

Jack raised his head slightly, then flopped it back down against the pillow and let his fingers dig into the shorn hairs at the nape of Bittle’s neck. “Yeah, bud. I’m up.”

He could feel the curve of Bittle’s smile against his skin. “Can I ask you somethin’. Kinda…kinda personal?”

“Anything,” Jack said, meaning it. There wasn’t a piece of him he was unwilling to share with Bittle. The soft parts, the jagged ones, his ugliest thoughts, the worst parts of himself.

Bittle hesitated, which meant he was probably uncomfortable with what he was about to ask, but it had clearly been bothering him for a while.

Jack pushed at Bittle until he came up further, until he was resting his face in the crook of Jack’s neck, blanketed across his torso with Jack holding him tight about the middle. “What is it?”

Bittle sighed. “I just…was wonderin’ um. When you were with…women? A woman. I mean…what was it…” He sighed. “This is comin’ out all wrong.”

“You want to know what it’s like to be with a woman?”

“I just wanted to know what you liked about it. With um…well Camilla, right? You and Camilla dated the longest.”

Jack snorted. “I was with her a while, yeah. I don’t know I’d call it dating, bud. We had something else.”

“Friends with benefits?” Bittle asked, and Jack jolted because yeah, that had been it, but it also felt like more, in a way.

“It was a tough semester, and the team wasn’t doing well, and she was…nice. She listened when I talked, and we had the same taste in a lot of stuff. One night we just decided to blow off some steam and it…helped. For a while.”

“Stress sex,” Bittle said quietly, his voice muffled by Jack’s skin.

“In a way.” Jack didn’t think he’d be able to explain it right, but he wanted to try. “Do you really want to hear about it?”

“I think so,” Bittle said, then kissed Jack gently against the side of his neck. “If it bothers me…”

“Just say the word,” Jack said. He tucked Bittle in closer, closed his eyes, and did his best to remember.

*** 

_It happened like this…_

***

“Brah. My glorious, Canadian moose…”

“How stoned are you right now?” Jack asks, irritated by not only the game, but the sheer disregard the rest of the team seems to have for the fact that BU wiped the floor with them in a fucking embarrassing 6-2 and he’s not sure he has the motivation to come back from it.

Which is a lie, of course, but he’s also dealing with the weight of midterms and his classes are not nearly as easy as he thought. Two of his professors are terrible at lecture which is leaving Jack to do most of his research outside of the classroom which is more time spent away from hockey which he’s not sure he can afford. Not when next year is his junior year. Not when next year it starts to matter, because people are watching him now, but they’re really, _really_ going to be watching him then.

Fuck.

“I saw Camilla across the room staring at you. You should totally go say hi. If you know what I mean.”

“I literally never know what you mean, Shits,” Jack says, but he takes it as an out to extract himself from Shitty’s stoned poetic waxing.

Jack likes Camilla anyway. She’s easy to talk to, and she’s good looking, and she doesn’t seem to expect things from him like everyone else. Everyone looks at him like a hockey robot, but expects there to be some tragic fallen prince storyline underneath that is just dying to come out over coffee and tears.

Yes, Jack’s past isn’t easy. Yes, he’s got a lot to overcome. No, he doesn’t want to cry about it.

Camilla’s in his astronomy class and she always brings him a black coffee and half a coffee cake which he’s always profoundly grateful for. And he’s half sure she flirts with him sometimes, but seems to respect the fact that on top of everything else, the sheer idea of dating is overwhelming at best.

At worst it makes him think of Parse which leaves him shaking in all the wrong ways.

But she’s smiling at him now and holding up a red solo cup he can almost guarantee is filled with sprite or water. He takes it and sniffs.

Ginger ale. Nice.

“You don’t look like you’re having the best time.”

Jack laughs. “Am I seriously that obvious?”

She shrugs. “Your outsides look like the way my insides feel right now. I’m just better at hiding it.” When he gives her a quirked eyebrow, she sighs and says, “I just got a fucking F on that research paper I had to turn in for western civ, and I twisted my ankle during practise today so I’m being evaluated on how long I have to sit out. Today is just…not my fucking day.”

“Cheers to that, then,” Jack says, and taps his cup against her beer.

She looks down at their joined choices of beverage, then back up at Jack and says, “Do you wanna go fuck?”

Jack almost chokes on his own tongue—not because he’s opposed, but because it’s probably the last thing he expects. “I…euh…”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything, man. Just…god I’m so stressed _out_ and I could use a good orgasm right about now, and I feel like that might be…” She shrugs, still keeping his gaze firmly locked with hers. “Mutually beneficial.”

Jack normally takes longer to consider something like this—bigger and with potential consequences. But he figures she wouldn’t ask if she’s not at least a little prepared. He’s pretty sure the condom back from ’04 in his wallet Kenny had slipped in as a stupid fucking joke isn’t any good, but hell, there are other ways to get off.

And although he’s been doing just fine with his hand in the shower, something else to take the edge off doesn’t sound entirely wrong. He checks in with himself—not anxious, and he's sober. Clear-headed.

“Your place, then?”

“Since everyone’s here, yeah. Probably a good idea.” She links their fingers together—not in a hand-holding way, but a practical, I can get us out of here and don’t get lost way. Then they’re pushing through the crowd, out the back door, through the gate, and heading up to the house she lives in on the next street over.

*** 

Her room is soft and delicate in ways she’s not on the outside. Pastel blue curtains with daisies printed on them, a grey and white striped duvet across her comforter. A round, purple rug that looks worse for the wear—like maybe she’d taken it from her childhood bedroom.

He doesn’t look at much else—not the fine details of her bookshelves and desk, or what's hanging in her half-open wardrobe, or the small piles of things strategically placed throughout the bedroom. Instead, he lets her boss him against the wall with her thigh slotted between his, her hands on his shoulders, eyes searching his face for want and consent.

“Anything off the table?” she asks.

“Um.” And he’s not sure because it’s been a while, but he doesn’t _think_ so. “Do you have condoms?”

“I do. Also lube because I like it really wet when I fuck someone with a cock. No anal for me and uh…I really really like my clit licked. You cool with that?”

He feels a surge of desire waking in his groin, and his cock hardens, presses against the zip in his jeans as he nods and tips his head down for a kiss. She’s good—different, which is actually better than just _good_ , and he lets her control it. Control the kiss, control where he moves—to the bed, apparently, where she flops on her back and takes him between her legs.

He manages to wriggle out of his jeans and feels the head of his dick poking out of the slit in his boxers, but he ignores it for the moment. She’s in leggings and they’re suck on her knees, so he leans back to help out. She cuffs him on the shoulder with the heel of her foot and laughs when he pulls a face.

But it’s nice. Friendly—with some expectation because yeah, they both want it to be good. But he knows she doesn’t want a marriage proposal in the morning, and if he stays he’ll probably buy her a coffee, but he’d do that anyway. So yeah.

Yeah.

He likes this. He likes the way she flushes, too, and the way she kind of presses into him when he mouths along the inside of her thigh. He particularly enjoys the way her bossy hands dig into his hair when he pulls her knickers aside and licks between her folds and finds her clit pretty easily.

It _has_ been a while since he’s done this, and his list of fucks is pretty small, but he remembers pretty well. And she’s very easy to read. She gets wet and flushed when he works her, and he stops when she pushes at his head so she can get her knickers out of the way, and then he can really go at it.

She comes twice before she reaches for a condom and helps him roll it on. “It’s the heat-up kind,” she says about the lube as she grabs the bottle. “Is that alright? I think I’m wet enough if you don’t want…”

“No I…this is…” He’s gasping because she’s stroking him and it’s hard to focus when he wants to come so fucking badly. He can feel the line of tension down his spine, bubbling through his belly, and racing up thighs.

She doesn’t hesitate after that, pouring some into her hand and coating his dick. Her hips shift so he can enter her, and she’s relaxed and already wet so it’s an easy slide. She’s worked her kegels nicely too, so she clenches round him and it’s like drowning in the way it sort of pulls all the air from his lungs and makes it hard to breathe.

And then he moves. He’s gasping air and thrusting his hips and she’s moaning and her fingers are rubbing her own clit, and god…

Fuck.

He spills, pulsing inside the condom and saying his usual prayer that nothing broke and everything’s fine, because he’s pretty sure that a pregnancy or STD scare isn’t going to relax him. At all.

But they’re good. It’s all good.

He pulls out and ties it off and she shifts over so he can flop down next to her with his arm above his head. He’s grinning in a way he hasn’t in what might be years, and she’s looking back at him with a cute little quirk of her lips.

He thinks maybe she’s going to make someone really happy one day. Not him. He doesn’t know what he needs to function in a relationship, but it’s not this. But the way she’s looking at him, soft and friendly, he thinks what they'd got here is pretty okay.

“Any chance you want to do that again?” she asks.

He can’t help a laugh. “I’m going to need at least an hour before I can go like that again.”

Rolling her eyes, she slaps him on the sternum. “No, asshole. Like…later. Again. You, me, fucking when the situation is dire. Or…one of us is bored. Whatever.”

“Oh,” he says. Because _oh_.

“I just…it would be nice, you know? To have that with someone I like, someone I trust. Who isn’t going to want more or fuck me over, or treat me like this is some sort of fucking fetish that…”

“Hey,” he says, and she falls quiet. “That sounds nice. I’d…like that too. And I like you too.”

“Careful, Zimmermann. Don’t get all sappy on me.”

“Never,” he says, his grin so wide now it kind of hurts.

She sits up after that and grabs a blanket from the end of the bed and curls up with it as Jack takes the bigger duvet. “It’s better this way. I hog the covers.”

He laughs again and turns on his side, and it really doesn’t take much at all for him to sleep.

In the morning, he does buy her coffee. Every single time they do this, in fact, and it always, always feels good.

*** 

With a sigh, Bitty brushed a sweep of fringe off Jack’s forehead. “Do you regret ending it?”

Jack laughed, brushing the backs of his knuckles along Bitty’s jaw. “She started dating someone on the volleyball team. One of Cait’s friends. I was happy for her, and I was already…” Jack stopped then shook his head. “I didn’t exactly know it at the time, but I was already so wrapped up in you, I didn’t have space for her anymore. I don’t think she minded.”

“Sweetheart,” Bitty murmured, then pressed his lips to Jack’s, soft and easy. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Was it okay to hear all that?”

Bitty smiled at him, then tucked himself close as he pulled their single duvet up along their bodies, legs tangled. Bitty stole the covers too, but Jack never seemed to mind. “It was okay,” he said eventually, his eyes getting sleepy the way Jack had been getting earlier. “I want to know every piece of you you’re willing to share.” “That’s all of it, bud,” Jack murmured, reaching for the light.

When it flicked off, Bitty sighed against him and says quietly into the dark, “Alright, baby.”

And it was. It was absolutely alright.


End file.
